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Chapter 66 - Friction

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Neither Emma nor Psylocke noticed the small smile on "sleeping" Dante's face in the back section. They were fools to think he would let himself sleep when Laura and Logan—two feral mutants—were right there with him.

He was quite pleased with the conclusion, though. Emma had proven herself capable of ruthlessness but fundamentally decent when it mattered. If Emma stayed like this, he didn't mind having a long term alliance.

"Death," he whispered. "Are you here?"

Death materialized at the edge of the seat like she had always been there and he was only just now noticing. Her pale skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim interior lighting.

With a wave of her hand, she made Logan and Laura disappear—no, he was in an isolated bubble. Death had used her reality bending power to leave an illusion for the world while she was with him.

The blood stench was gone too.

She reached down and touched his lips gently. The dried bloodstains around his mouth and chin vanished instantly, erased from existence as if they had never been.

"Yes, Companion?"

Seeing her so gentle and caring, he couldn't help but feel guilt twist in his chest like a knife. Despite her permission to let him be with other women, he still felt guilty of not being with her enough.

Because if he was in her position, he never would've allowed it. It was just like how he would never let Felicia or Silvija be with someone else when they were in a relationship with him. Just the thought of sharing his lovers made him distressed and disgusted, yet Death had decided to tolerate it. All three of them had decided on it.

The double standard was obvious. He could be with multiple women, but those women couldn't be with multiple men.

Was it selfish? Yes, absolutely. Hypocritical too. But that's just how he was, and he wasn't going to pretend otherwise or justify it.

Death, who might be feeling a spark of love for the first time, might have found it the hardest.

"Get up for a moment, Companion."

"Yeah?" Dante pushed himself up slightly.

As he shifted position, Death slid closer and guided him with gentle hands to lie back down, adjusting his position so the back of his head rested on her thighs.

The lap pillow position reminded him immediately of that moment in his apartment when she had pouted like a young woman.

Unfortunately, all of their work had been trashed.

Fortunately, he had found a home in Silvija's New York branch of Silver Sable International.

As he thought about the coming days, Death leaned down, pressing her lips against his in a surprising kiss. His eyes closed reflexively as his hand came up to cup the back of her head. There was something profound about being kissed by Death herself while receiving a lap pillow.

Death pulled back slowly, reluctantly.

"Death, do you want to…?"

She froze momentarily before shaking her head, a slight flush on her cheeks. "Wait until I'm fully back from the other universe."

"That makes me sad...."

She pressed a finger on his nose. "You have Silvija."

"But I want you."

"You'll have me when the time is right." She waved her fingers through his hair. "Just rest for now, Companion. Leave your safety to me."

"You're not supposed to interfere," Dante mumbled, already feeling drowsy despite his earlier determination to stay alert. Her warm thighs were pulling him into the dreamland. "Cosmic balance and stuff."

"I'm not interfering with anything significant. Just ensuring my Companion receives adequate rest." She ruffled his hair with a smile. "Sleep before I change my mind."

"Hmm, wake me up if my life's in danger."

Tomorrow was an important day. He had to fix Laura and Logan's relationship, or at least make sure Laura didn't want to return to SHIELD. He also had to work in the lab with Gwen and figure out the Hand's next response. Emma and Silvija would be key to finding all of Norman's labs and figuring out the hiding den of the Hand superiors.

Nobu's death wasn't enough. He would wipe every authority figure in the Hand for the simple crime of attacking his Wild Pack.

Death brushed his face. "Gladly."

***

Norman Osborn sat on his leather couch in his who-knows-how-many million dollars penthouse. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind him offered a panoramic view of Manhattan's glittering skyline, a city he fully intended to own this year.

Usually, this would be his time to wind down after business obligations and plans to conquer the world, often spent with a glass of scotch and the company of some young pretty thing who found power and wealth more intoxicating than any drug. Models, actresses, rich heiress, and university students—they all blurred together after a while for a man of his stature.

Tonight, however, he was alone. He had a nervous energy around him as he fidgetted with the remote.

The wall-mounted television across from him displayed weren't for entertainment. Multiple feeds from his first research site covered the screen in a grid pattern. The place where he had stored the most important asset of his entire operation—the Source Symbiote. 

But it was under siege the very night some mysterious man decided to create chaos underground.

He wouldn't be this rattled if this was just an assault by the Hand. Silver Sable International made the defense impenetrable after he paid her a hefty sum.

The battles that took place after the Hand's assault were the real source of his anxiety. Apparently, New York was a den of superpowered beings disguised as ordinary people. It pissed him off. He really wanted to grab them all and ask where they were until now. What were they doing when he was plotting world conquest?

Each and every one of them had potential to kill Norman in a single combat.

There was a feral man with sharp claws, who refused to die no matter how much damage he took. Norman had watched him take bullets and absorb impacts that should have obliterated a normal adult, yet the bastard kept fighting like some unkillable berserker. Norman would've sent his symbiotes to capture the man once he was exhausted, but Skullfire's entry made him take a step back.

There was a giant made of organic steel, who had been hiding in plain sight as one of Silver Sable's subordinates.

The mysterious woman who was somehow more terrifying than her grumbly friend. The said friend had an ability to create teleport gates. She had beaten Ghost Spider with just one look.

Yet, Emma Frost, the usually low-profile daughter of Winston Frost, had sent the mysterious woman and her friend away with one order. And her bodyguard—the Japanese woman with the katana—had broken the sound barrier with pure physical capability.

He never would've expected Emma Frost to be one of the superpowered people.

Then there was another undying feral woman with sharp claws, younger than the first but possibly more dangerous because she fought with more wits.

She had come with a redhead, who had turned into a female version of Skullfire except she had red flames and a fiery chain as her weapon. Norman had paused that footage and just stared for a solid minute. He couldn't understand the source of the woman's power. Was it magic, mutation, or some alien technology? Whatever the source, it represented forces he didn't understand. And Norman hated being the ignorant one.

And of course, his archnemesis, the man who had declared that Norman should count his days—Skullfire himself.

Today, Skullfire hadn't just shown great powers, he had also shown his own mutated symbiote. Probably one of the two he had taken from Walter and Felicia, Norman reckoned.

"Venom."

The name was quite laughable compared to his own "Sovereign."

"No matter what comes, I'll be the only one standing." The words came out a whisper. Then something shifted in his chest as he recalled Skullfire's words. His voice rose, filling the empty penthouse with a conviction bordering on madness. "So what if they are powerful? Can they fight one hundred? Five hundred? ONE THOUSAND?"

He burst into full-blown maniacal laughter.

Every symbiote born from the fragments he had harvested was less than half of the Source Symbiote's strength, a price he had accepted for mass production. Still, it was a thousand symbiote strong army under him, which was growing at this very moment. He could use them to defeat these superpowered people and make them a part of his army. Except for Skullfire, the female version of him, and the steel giant. Flames terrified symbiotes, and the steel giant wouldn't be affected by symbiote.

The thought made him laugh even harder.

He took a sip of vintage wine and watched the screen showing the Source Symbiote as it was dissected. The sight always brought a smile to his face. The alien organism had saved his life and contributed the most to the operation. When everything was done, he would give it a special seat in his Kingdom. The organism deserved that much recognition, at least.

Cycling through the footage, he saw the prisoners being apprehended again and being put behind the unbroken panels. The rebellion was over. The researchers were back to doing their job.

Yet, Norman couldn't shake off the bad feeling in his gut.

"Just who was this mysterious man? Why did he create so much chaos?"

He was overlooking something hidden in plain sight. Yet no matter how much he observed, no matter how many times he rewatched the footage, nothing seemed out of place.

"I can't wait too much longer."

The more he waited, the more time these hidden organizations would have to identify him as a threat and coordinate a response. The more time Skullfire would have to recruit more superpowered allies, possibly even convince the government to take direct action against Oscorp.

The element of surprise was already lost. Speed was essential now. Push forward aggressively before his enemies could organize a proper defense.

He took his phone from the side table and scrolled through his contacts. His thumb paused over a specific name as he considered the implications of what he was about to do.

Then he pressed the dial.

He took his phone and contacted his business partner colluding with him in this matter for a while. The person was responsible for his symbiote logistics, supplying prisoners, and even distributing said symbiotes to criminals.

The Nefaria family provided these services and men. He secretly turned them into his own through symbiote.

"Norman Osborn," came a calm, almost emotionless voice. "This better be important."

"Whitney Frost, I'll supply you ten packages. Keep half for yourself and distribute the rest?"

"Have you gone mad?" Norman's proposal had shocked even her, and Whitney Frost was rarely shocked by anything in the criminal underworld. "Three hundred symbiotes will completely flip every faction in the underworld. The city will turn into a war zone."

"How else will you get your chance to be the Queen of the entire underworld?" Norman sneered. "Break their bones with power then show them the resourcefulness of your family. You'll make everyone loyal. You have the charisma and intelligence for it."

Of course, it was just a lie to convince Whitney Frost. Norman had no intention of making Whitney Frost the Queen of anything. He only needed her for healthy, strong hosts for symbiotes. The people who looked loyal to the Nefaria family but whose true allegiance belonged to Norman through the symbiotes.

Whitney took a dramatic pause which was purely for the show. She had already made her decision when she called him out. Now she was just negotiating terms.

"I'll be your messenger on the condition you publicly acknowledge me, the daughter of Count Nefaria, as your wife. I want legitimate power, not just underworld influence."

Norman raised an eyebrow. He hadn't expected Whitney to play that card so quickly, though in retrospect it made perfect strategic sense.

 "Count Nefaria is fine with your decision?"

"Who do you think suggested it?" Whitney laughed coldly. "Father understands that the future belongs to those who control both the shadows and the light. He doesn't want me to just be the 'Big M' of one family. He wants the Nefaria Family to be untouchable. Only then can we unite every Maggia family."

Norman sneered. "I have no issues with it."

The old man was a wealthy Italian aristocrat and the former Big M of the Nefaria Family, yet he still threw his daughter—the new Big M—in a political marriage. The move wasn't just for Norman's wealth, though the billions certainly didn't hurt. It was to gain access to his connections to elite society and also legitimize Nefaria Family's operations within the states.

It was a mutually parasitic relationship where both parties intended to eventually consume the other.

"Then I'll prepare myself for our 'engagement' announcement."

Pure indifference as he would expect from Whitney.

Norman chuckled. "Outstanding! I'll have my people contact your people. We'll make it a spectacle. The tragic daughter of Byron Frost—wait, no, that's not quite right for the narrative."

He paused.

"The aristocratic daughter of Count Nefaria, educated in European high society and now taking the American business world by storm, finds love with the self-made billionaire. Old world nobility meets the new world innovation. Media outlets will be absolutely salivating over that story."

"How... sentimental of you," Whitney replied, her flat voice making it impossible to tell if she was amused or insulted. "Do ensure you emphasize the Nefaria name prominently. After all, you're not just marrying some society heiress—you're allying with one of the oldest crime families in Europe. Everyone needs to get the message."

"They will get it loud and clear," Norman said. "Sleep well, Mrs. Osborn-to-be."

He ended the call before she could say anything more, denying her the last word in their negotiation.

"A bunch of criminals think they can control the Sovereign through a woman."

For now, he would let them think their infiltration was working, that they were gradually gaining leverage over Oscorp's resources and Norman's decision-making. Let Count Nefaria believe his daughter was fulfilling her duty and securing the family's future.

But after he had absorbed enough enhanced individuals into his Hive Mind, they would see who was beneath whom.

They would see who the Sovereign really was.

And they would kneel, or they would burn.

Norman stood from the couch and walked to the window. Somewhere in this huge city was the man who had threatened Norman, telling him to count his days.

"You should count yours now." Norman smiled. "I'm going to destroy you."

It was only a matter of time.

***

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